Talk to Me.

Talk to me




Talk to me


I promise I won’t bite


Attack you in the night

In fact

When I walk alone in the dark

I too carry a flash light


Talk to me




Do not be alarmed

By the bronze of my exterior

It was simply the product

Of being left out

A little longer than yourself

In our mother’s vision

OUR mother

But it wasn’t unintentional

She said life would be too dull

If we all came out

Exactly the same

So she made my hair a little thicker too

And told me I was beautiful

I wish she would have warned me

To be cautious of my siblings


Talk to me


When I walk by my sisters and brothers and others

I never know

What to expect

Some act as if they have heard about me,


Before even having uttered a word in my direction

They’d have to look me in the eye to do that


Talk to me


In seventh grade biology they taught me

That there are 206 bones in the human body

And that the liquid of our blood

Is called plasma

And I remember

Being so infatuated by that

‘OUR blood’

Said the teacher

And so I looked around the room

And I saw one collective entity


I felt warmth

A sensation I’ve never experienced in a history class




I move out of the way

When you walk in my direction

Sixty years ago

It would’ve been you

That deters my imaginary advances

Two separate responses

To the same system

Of oppression




It’s 2016

When we discuss institutional privilege

In one hundred level sociology

You roll your eyes

And smirk along with the person to your right

As I sit on your left

Do you not understand?

You are a part of the problem




All I’ve ever wanted was for you to know me




Why must I beg?




Maybe if you did

You would understand

Why I’m so desperate


Talk to me.




Bianka Bell


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